Diaries of an Anarchist
by Hastur
Summary: A strange adventure with subtle Jalex angst. No idea where the idea for this one came from. T for language and violence.


Alex was ready for this. This was what she had been preparing for for weeks. It was the night of the ball. The ball being held at the mansion on the coast, the one built on the high cliff. The dress was picked out. The makeup was prepared. It all boiled down to this.

Alex jumped out of the helicopter that was hovering, as silent as any modern technology can make helicopters, a mere 800 yards away from the cliff facing. She gave a thumbs up as she parachuted down. The wind blew her towards the mansion, but this was all calculated. Soon she hit the water, and pulled her wand out of her black marine suit. Silently, she used a spell to cut the parachute lines, then began to swim toward the cliff.

Once she was 300 yards from the bottom of the cliff, she pulled a set of goggles over her eyes and pushed a button on the side. She scanned the outside of the mansion. It looked like none of the guards were watching the east facing. Excellent, all went according to plan. Silently she swam on, with only the sounds of the breaching of her arms and legs as she continued making powerful strokes, gliding through the water to her goal.

At length, she reached a small rocky outcropping at the bottom of the cliff. Taking her wand out, she threw off her marine suit, then smacked her wand against her hand. It turned into a compressed-air launched grappling hook, which she shot up the cliff. It landed, hooking into the ground above. Alex pulled it, making sure it was steady before she began her ascent.

Once at the top, she began to rifle through the bushes.

"_Operative, has the package been inserted?" _came the voice over her earpiece.

"Positive, the package is here," she affirmed softly. She picked it up and fired her grappling hook once more, this time to the top balcony of the mansion. It was dark, but there would be her insertion point. Quietly and swiftly, she climbed up onto the balcony, finally changing her compressed air gun back into a wand so that she could use it to get inside. There was a door on this balcony, and it was locked. She cast the 10 foot teleportation spell and was inside.

"Operative is inserted," she said to mission control. It was dark in here, the upper floor. She was in an office of some sort. An office with a balcony must be an important office indeed, but even so she knew that she wouldn't find what she was looking for here. She looked out the door cautiously. The hallway was lit up, but empty, so she dashed across it. If she remembered the floor plan properly, there would be a bedroom behind the door across the hall. She was in luck. Opening the door and slipping in quickly, she shut the door silently and then turned on the lights. Only then did she open the package.

Inside the box was her dress. Teal, floor-length with an elegant, low V-neck. She pulled a necklace out of the box too. It was simple and gold, and had a single charm on it – the letter 'A'. It was also a camera, which would wirelessly transmit video feed back to mission control. It also had another function, to jam a certain frequency. This was all part of the plan.

With a snap of her fingers she magically switched outfits and did her hair. No point in doing it the long way when you're a wizard and time is of the essence. The spell put her hair up, as it went with the outfit better. Long white gloves and strappy teal shoes completed the outfit.

Darting back across the hall, she went back out onto the balcony and dropped her other outfit and the box over the side. Agents would be by later to re-acquire it. All was going according to plan.

* * *

Meanwhile, downstairs, Justin felt like something was awry. He wasn't sure if his sister was going to try anything tonight. But as he was sitting at the place of honor in his beige military dress uniform, he couldn't excuse himself to go find out if anything was up. He did keep an eye out, though, glancing around the room as he traced the scar on his left cheek up to his eyepatch. It continued on his brow above that. Lost in combat, of course.

"Commander Russo!" a man wearing a civilian suit next to him said. "You look so sad! Have some more wine!"

"No thank you, Dr. Fine," Justin said with a very bad Prussian accent that no one seemed to notice. "I have...other things on my mind."

"Shaw, please! This party is for you, after all."

"The Party is for no one!" Justin yelled, standing up suddenly. Dr. Fine waved vaguely as the conversation and music in the room died down and all eyes were turned on the two.

"No no," he said. "Not the Party. This party! The ball!"

"Oh. Why yes, of course," Justin said, settling down and regaining his seat. "I apologize. I was rash."

"Of course, think nothing of it," Dr. Fine said. Everyone was well aware of Justin Russo's views on the Party. It was for everyone, and to imply that it was for one person was an outrage against his politics. He believed in the Party so truly, he lost an eye for it. Justin thoughtfully continued rubbing his scar and then finally took a sip of his wine.

There was music, and food, and dancing, but Justin found he couldn't enjoy himself. He kept scanning the crowd, expecting to see her, among the many people who had come to honor him. Of course, she wouldn't be here for that purpose. Her goal would be much more sinister, although Justin didn't know quite what it would be.

Eventually his search proved fruitful. It was her! Just as he had suspected. He looked at her and she looked straight back at him, her eyes had been on him for who knew how long. The orchestra was playing a waltz as Justin stood up.

"If you'll excuse me, Dr. Fine, I should like to go dance with that girl," he said. Dr. Fine looked happy that Justin was finally relaxing and having some fun.

"Whoa! She's quite a catch too!" Dr. Fine said as he looked in the direction that Justin glanced. A blonde woman next to Dr. Fine smacked his arm. "Hey, I only mean if I were a young – OW, hey!" (Mrs. Fine was a jealous wife.)

Meanwhile, Justin strolled across the dance floor, approaching his sister.

"May I have this dance?" Justin said, and Alex took his hands. They positioned themselves and began the waltz to the beat. "Whatever you have planned," he said, leaning close and whispering in her ear. "My men will stop it."

"You can't stop revolution," Alex whispered back, inhaling Justin's musky scent. "The wheels I've put into place tonight will continue to spin."

"No... you can't stop revolution," Justin agreed softly, turning his head to gaze into her deep chocolate brown eyes.

("Ah, don't they remind you of us, dear?" Dr. Fine was saying to his wife. "What?" she replied. "You think he's thinking about particle physics?" Dr. Fine chuckled.)

"But we are the revolution!" Justin finished, not loud enough for anyone else to hear. Both he and Alex kept their countenances neutral and danced smoothly. "The Party will win the next major election too – your little ragtag band of misfits has no chance. The people are fed up with espionage and betrayal."

"They're also fed up with senseless violence and total government control!" Alex retorted as they spun around. "That's why the revolution will continue, with or without me!"

"My dear Alex," Justin hissed. "What could you possibly have planned? Have you infiltrated a private party just to dance with your older brother?"

"Of course not. Besides, we've danced before," she said, removing her hand from Justin's as she put a hand to his cheek and traced the scarline for herself. "I still remember giving this to you," she said, smiling.

Justin smiled back. "Ah yes... however I seem to recall having won that battle, in the end. The Party's secrets were safe at the end of the night."

"Party secrets – right. I bet it was Hitler/Mussolini erotic fanfiction."

Justin's eyes narrowed. She had struck a nerve. She had done this knowingly and intentionally. "The Party has nothing to do with fascism!" he said in a loud whisper. Fortunately for him they were away from all the other couples.

Alex pulled him closer. "If the shoe fits!" she accused.

"By that logic, your group is nothing but a disorganized bunch of miscreants!"

"More or less," Alex shrugged, smirking, her pearly white teeth practically glistening. Her perfectly supple, ruby red lips framed them and Justin couldn't help but wonder if she was wearing lipstick or not.

"You still haven't told me what you're doing here," Justin growled, getting annoyed with his sister, even if she were being adorable.

"Right now I'm confusing the hell out of the leader of the Imperialists. That itself is enough for me." She tilted her head and her expression softened. Justin just now noticed the tiny pearl stud earrings, which looked strangely beautiful on his sister's petite ears.

"You know, I could have you arrested any time I wanted," Justin warned.

"Oh? And why haven't you then?" Alex prodded.

"I... I don't know," Justin admitted. "I'm still trying to figure out your angle. Maybe you want to be. It could be part of your plan. You always have one, and you always try to keep me guessing as to what it is."

Just then, the song ended, and everyone clapped for the orchestra. Justin glared at Alex, and was about to retreat to his seat when he found Alex's gloved arm dragging him into a corner.

"I do have a plan," Alex whispered. Justin leaned in to hear her better, her voice was so low. Alex put her arms around Justin, but he tensed up. He felt her wand pressing against his back, and he recoiled, spinning her away from him and drawing his pistol at the same time.

"She's an Anarchist agent!" Justin cried with his weapon trained on Alex. "You weren't going to get me off guard for long, traitor!"

Some armed men were making their way through the crowd, coming to apprehend the petite brunette, when suddenly there was an explosion of glass as one of the windows burst inward and Anarchists dressed in black dove in. Justin cursed as he realized what Alex had been doing – not only providing a distraction, but probably jamming their early detection systems. He ran up to her and tore her necklace off.

Meanwhile the armed men had diverted their attention to the Anarchists, who had gotten behind the pillars holding up the great hall on the one side. All the party-goers were diving for cover – under the tables and behind the pillars on the other side. This was where the armed guards also retreated to, and a fire-fight started.

Justin held up the necklace. "This! This is what caused this!" His pistol waved in the air, but Alex reacted quickly. She kicked it out of his hand, and it went flying over into the recesses of the party. She brought her wand up, firing something out of it, but Justin dodged under her arm, then grabbed the wrist of the hand holding the wand. They were now standing even closer than they had during the dance, and their hot breath mixed with one another's. Their cheeks were almost touching as Alex spun around to try and break free of the hold, but Justin squeezed it until she dropped the wand. Justin crushed it under his heel, snapping it easily. Alex stuck out her bottom lip, but didn't lose any time. Within the second a dagger was in her other hand, from goodness knows where, and Justin pulled his own combat knife. They walked around each other in cautious circles, looking for an opening. Alex found one and jumped forward, but Justin had been prepared and stepped to the side. He grasped her knife-hand by the wrist again, and pulled her into him, his knife lightly touching her sternum as she stood, caught by Justin with her back to his chest. She could feel his head right behind and next to hers, as he whispered in her ear "You're mine now."

Man. Max has some really fucked up dreams.

* * *

**A.N.: I have no idea where the idea for this story came from. It's.... a little bizarre, yes. I feel like continuing but I probably shouldn't, haha.**


End file.
